Knights of the Old Republic: Of Three Knights
by whtsrname
Summary: Set a year before Revan ventured into the Mandalorian Wars, the story starts with the disappearance of war hero and devoted High Council member Kaegan Nassow. Off on a search to solve an ancient Holocron's secrets, his mysterious absence leaves a lot of questions behind, unleashing a dangerous thread of tension that will entagle Padawans and Jedi Masters alike.
1. Prologue - Raehla

**Prologue**

* * *

 _Coruscant 3964 BBY_

* * *

 **Raehla**

" _Raehla_."

Raehla sprint through the open field, arms spread wide. The length of the weeds was tall enough to reach her knees; the speed of the runner, enough to turn them into thin blades, all swiftly scratching the surface of her porcelain skin. After a while it was only the murmur of their whooshing that alleviated their sting. She could feel the ground beneath her feet grow fresher, and the farther she ran, the muddier her toes would get. She knew she had to be dreaming, because she could see with both of her eyes.

" _Raehla._ " He'd called again, more clearly.

"Master?" She replied aloud, burying her ankles deep into the mud. Raehla turned and reconfirmed her previous suspicion: she was alone in the dark. Where exactly, she couldn't have been expected to know. But it wasn't Althir, no. That much was certain. In her dreams she would always picture it full of sand, and dirt, and then blood; which was curious, because she remembered her home world very clearly, and her home world was green. Or at least it had been. Only the mandalorians could know now.

"Taka'dehj." The voice was too strict to be Nassow's.

This time she opened her eyes, but only one of them saw the walls that closed up about her. It was a routine morning adjustment, but one so uncomfortable, that twelve years hadn't been enough for her to ease into it.

Her first impulse had been to sit up straight in a panic. She was late, wasn't she. But once she caught glimpse of the window, her face didn't take long to melt her initial horror into the most pained of expressions, while a dramatic fall to the mattress stressed her distaste for the unwelcome surprise.

"What is it? What do you want?" She murmured as she hid her face beneath the covers, turning her back on Tekk.

"They're calling for you."

Raehla didn't respond. She was busy trying to think about the plains she'd dreamt of until Tansa woke her up; her memory of them was slipping off. She tried to recall the gold of weeds, the crash of wind against her face, the cold in her feet. But it was pointless. Retaining a fistful of sand would have been easier a task.

"Raehla, the Council has summoned you. You _have_ to wake up."

Raehla opened her eyes again and turned to study Tekk's face: it was cold as marble. There was nothing particularly new about that; Tansa Tekk's face had always looked grim around Raehla.

She sat on the bed again.

"The Council? What is it?" She rubbed her right eye, as if hoping further tampering would wake it from its years long sleep.

"Blast, they didn't even think you'd be here!"

"What are you babbling about?"

Tansa sighed and grabbed her softly by the shoulders. This unexpected form of closeness had ceased to exist years ago between them. That it should make an appearance now showed that which Tansa had fought hard to conceal for the past three years: that she still worried about her.

"Raehla..."

Raehla stood up with a clear intent to match the urgency of the situation, and yet an even clearer intent to lose herself from the frail grasp of Tekk.

"They've be waiting for you." She warned before leaving.

Raehla paid her no mind and hurried into her robes, trying hard not to undo yesterday's braid: how it had survived the night in the first place was a mystery that would have to wait.

When she opened to door to help herself out, she found Atris waiting across the other side. Her face was as stern as ever, but she could tell that her presence there had unchained a series of reactions behind the eyes of the Jedi Master.


	2. Regon

_Coruscant 3964 BBY_

* * *

 **Regon**

"Careful!" the Caretaker jumped.

El-Tar kept his composure, but felt his heart rate skip a beat.

"Oh, it is you, Regon. I'm sorry… I did not mean to startle you." He approached him placated "I guess I should have expected you." He grinned, stopping his walk a few meters away from him to keep the distance. "It's one of a kind, isn't it?"

The footage showed that he'd stayed for almost exactly three minutes, but what had gone down inside, only Nassow and the chamber could know: for security reasons, no cameras were allowed to be installed inside the Holocron Chamber.

Upon investigation, it was learned that no holocrons had been stolen or damaged, save for one perhaps, found lying on the floor. In the beginning it had seemed like a promising lead, but it was soon discarded as unimportant by the Council after some discussion: as the Caretaker of First Knowledge had informed them, the artefact was known to be thousands of years old, and it had been out of function for at least half of its life. Whatever information it may had once possessed, it wasn't there any longer to be found. It had been deemed completely useless long before the recent events, and kept inside only as a personal caprice of the Caretaker, who had confessed to having a thing for old relics.

Everyone had seemed convinced about its inutility save for one man. And that man had been Regon El-Tar. He did, however, know better than to voice his disagreement and try to steer the conversation away from the immediate consequences. On the bright side, this would leave the investigation of the causes all to himself. Or so he hoped.

While few things had ever bothered Master El-Tar, most of those things had always been tied to Kaegan Nassow, one way or the other. It was only natural that he should take it upon himself to take a look of his own at the matter, while he let the rest of the Council look wherever else they regarded more relevant, be it Nassow, or mandalorians, or the Padawan Massacre.

Regon returned his attention to the holocron he'd come to find. To the holocron _Kaegan_ had come to find, he told himself.

His fingers caressed its surface with tenderness, his eyes, with awe. It always pleased the Caretaker to see how Regon held the same adoration and respect for the past as he did himself. But it wasn't just the past that Regon respected; it was also that which threatened him, and the holocron was not an exception. Something dark slept inside its walls. He could only hope Kaegan had not awakened it.

Finally Regon turned to him, holding up the holocron, the sight full of questions.

"It's as I told the rest of the Council…" He started again, reaching closer "Extremely old, extremely beautiful… and extremely useless. I don't see why your friend would bother with it. If he came after something here, it must have been something else…"

El-Tar frowned, shaking his head slowly. He made sense, but ' _sense_ ' was hardly a word that could be put together in the same sentence with ' _Nassow_ '.

"Why this?" The Caretaker asked defensively "There's plenty here that he could have been after, plenty that many wouldn't want found… Ancient prophecies, stories, myths, forbidden knowledge... _Forgotten_ knowledge… There's a reason this place is so highly restricted, not so many why this artefact belongs here…" He looked for El-Tar's eyes in search of answers, only to find that he was phrasing his own questions aloud.

"Then why _does_ it belong here?" Regon's eyes lit up "I don't believe you'd keep just about any piece of junk on the grounds of it being old… Especially not here." He saw the Caretaker's eyes flicker "You're not a simple hoarder; you're picky about your toys. You're refined, you're a specialist. If this got here, there has to be a reason for it…" He concluded his verdict.

There's a thing about secrets that makes their keepers feel as equally compelled to hide them, as they do to reveal them. El-Tar was by no means oblivious to this, which is why he appealed to the Caretaker's inner need for recognition. He knew it was a matter of putting the right words in the right order, and it mattered not how strong, the relief to be discovered, to be placed under the right lights, would win him over, as it had always won over everyone in the past. Of course: there may have been a secret he had wanted to share, yes. But as his sole master and keeper, he would not give it away so easily to the first who'd wander in his path. In Regon's own words, he was picky and refined. He was a specialist.

"Look at it, Regon. What do you see?"

The Jedi lowered his gaze to observe the relic he held in his hand, this time more carefully, in search of the truths he had ignored upon his first look.

It was archaic, and it was practically mutilated… But even time wasn't known to be capable of such cruelty. The damage had been intentional.

"It's been forced." He expressed almost inaudibly.

"And to no avail." He was heard.

"Because… it wasn't for them to hear." He trailed off.

"No." The Caretaker agreed once more "It wasn't."

Yet amidst the clarity, Regon grew suspicious.

"But it was for _Kaegan Nassow_ to hear?" He lifted his sight from the holocron, wishing no more of it "I find it hard to believe."

The Caretaker took a deep breath and shrugged.

"That, Master Jedi, I reckon I do not know." He sounded disappointed, distant "Perhaps it was for him to hear. Perhaps it was a matter of him being in the right place, at the right time. Perhaps it was the will of the Force or perhaps it was the will of chance. But of all the questions we could spend hours asking ourselves, there is one that stands out: who was the other one?"

Regon frowned, looking disoriented for the first time in long years.

"' _The other one?_ '"

The Caretaker smiled.

"Ah, yes. Maybe I chose the wrong set of words when I said it was ' _one of a kind_ ' earlier. You'll have to forgive my poor memory, Regon."

Regon grimaced.

"This holocron is bound to another. That is to say: whatever it shows to one, its twin brother shows to the other. The question is ' _who is that other?_ '"

"Where could a man I find it?"

"Force knows." He headed for the exit "In any case, if it did in fact share its secrets with him, then it would be too late." He mustered "Only Nassow and said person would get to know them. I suppose our best shot would lie in the hope that whatever mysteries it held, that it would be really after Kaegan Nassow to uncover their veil."

"And if it wasn't?" El-Tar walked beside him.

"Then we should hope the Force be with us. We would very much need it."

Regon was frowning, but the Caretaker stopped to laugh out loud.

"Don't be looking so grim, Regon. I'm afraid old age tends to make the habit of heeding wild warnings to our youths rather comforting, if only for the sake of remembering what it was like to be heard. You're the only one who still visits me, after all." He said apologetically "If I must be honest with you, I'd say that the odds that this antique holds any value whatsoever are extremely scarce. I know you put great praise on my hoarding refinements, but at the risk of disappointing you, this time I really thought it was just a beautiful thing to hold."

"The Force does not concern itself with odds …" He replied almost unwillingly. There was an ominous sense of defeat among his thoughts.

The Caretaker tried to cheer him up.

"You were friends once, were you not?"

Regon nodded.

"The best of them." He uttered.

"I understand that you might be looking to find meaning in all of this, but I beg of you that you don't find it in the fatalistic stories of an old man, lest you end up as Caretaker one day."

"Atris would kill me." Regon joked.

The Caretaker chuckled, and El-Tar looked up again.

"You think I could take it?"

His friend smiled.

"I fail to see how it would bring anybody any harm." He shrugged "Do take it, Regon. It has brought me luck all these years, perhaps it will bring you luck as well."

"Well, this was interesting." He smiled politely "Thank you." He said, swiftly burying the holocron in the depths of his pocket "But I'm afraid I came looking for something more of a boring read."

"Oh?" He was intrigued "If anything, my years in the Archives have taught me that boring reads tend to provide the most engaging of knowledge."

"I shall hope so."


	3. Karra

_Coruscant 3964 BBY_

* * *

 **Karra**

"Yes, Masters.", "No, Masters.", "I do not know, Masters."

Raehla had bowed, knelt, stayed still, and never missed an opportunity to show her utmost respect before the Council. Yet it seemed that there was little she could do to please those who sat before her: it was not reminders of their greatness they were after; it was a man.

Where was Kaegan Nassow?

"Are you sure there isn't something you're not telling us?" Master Vrook pushed for the last time.

But it was obvious to everyone present: the child had spoken nothing but the truth. Three meetings in one week should have been more than enough Raehla for everyone, but of course there had been those of whom who'd cared to dissent. It hadn't taken a full day for Karra's interest to quickly shift from Raehla to the remaining Jedi Masters: the Padawan's innocence was obvious, the Council's take on it not so much.

Vandar's eyes would seek for Vrook's, but Vrook's would be too busy avoiding Vandar's; Atris would never fail to make eye-contact with El-Tar whenever she spoke, and the latter would often nod gravely in acknowledgement; Lonna Vash would gaze at the empty chair when she thought no one was looking, but Karra was always looking; Lucien Draay's sight crossed Dorjancer Kace's once or twice, and their lazy smiles had revealed Draay was as happy not to be discussing the Taris ' _event_ ', as Kace was not to be talking mandalorians yet again.

"Thank you for your help, young Padawan. You can go back to your activities now. We'll see to it that the matter is solved soon." spoke Master Vandar.

Karra watched the girl bite her lip, trying hard to stop the start of a smile betray her secret disbelief. " _No you won't_." She had almost said.

"Oh, and-" Master Vander stopped her "For the present time, please remember to best keep this matter to yourself, young Padawan. There is much we need to solve before the proper explanations can be given. We ask patience of you. Nothing more."

Her manners ever so graceful, she stood, she bowed, and she left.

The silence Raehla left behind was almost too solemn to bear. It is often, after all, the loudest people that leave the hardest of silences when they're gone.

"It's been a week and there's been no news." Lonna Vash took the courage to interrupt. Or perhaps it was the cowardice to face the still "No sight of the _White Raven_ anywhere either."

"And the girl won't tell us anything." Atris nodded.

"The girl doesn't _know_ anything." Karra reminded her, irked "But whatever may be the case, we cannot keep quiet about this. It's been a week after all, there's talk on the halls..." Vash seemed to agree with this.

"Allow me to dissent, Master Navab." Said Kavar politely "I don't think we can risk letting this information leave these walls… These are hard times we're facing. We can't afford to look weak."

' _But we are._' Thought Navab.

"I suggest the official explanation be that we sent him off on a secret mission. If only to appease a potential panic." He offered.

Karra shot a pointed look at Master Vandar, who nodded thoughtfully. Luckily, Vrook hadn't sounded so pleased with the idea himself, for a change.

"Avoid a risk by taking an even bigger risk? Need I mention what the outcome would be if this backfired on us? We are _Jedi_. We don't take the easy way out."

"There _is_ no easy way out." Zez-Kai Ell backed Kavar "What with one of our strongest members gone and no explanations to give, we're jeopardizing our authority and name before the Galactic Republic. And if there's ever been a time when the Republic has needed our counsel, this is the time it's needed it the strongest. We can't risk them rushing into war…"

There was a silence. Nobody wanted to mention the mandalorian threat again.

"Well, what about his Padawan? What do we do about her?" Asked someone "Somebody will wonder why her Master didn't take her with him, won't they?"

"She'll need a new Master." Master Vrook took the courage to decide "It's rare, but not unheard of when Padawans reach out for new teachers… The question is who?"

Lips were bitten, eyes were crossed, faces were touched. Sometimes it is a gross tumult of opinions that hide behind silence rather than a lack there of.

"I wouldn't mind training her." Said Kavar, ignoring Zez-Kai Ell's skeptical glare.

It was this moment that Master Navab saw it fit to laugh, shaking her head and shrugging at the same time. It was such a light-hearted outburst that it should have seemed out of place, yet there was a desperate longing for a change of atmosphere, so nobody objected.

"My old friend," She smiled. Raehla had been one of Kaegan's personal requests and, like any of them, that could only mean she'd be a challenge "we're talking about one of Kaegan's whims here. And you seem to have a handful these days… If you were to take Raehla under your tutoring, you'd need all the patience your years as a Jedi have taught you to master." She breathed in, thoughtfully "Besides, we all know the tides are turning. Soon it won't be Ataru what we should be teaching our children, but saber forms like Shii-Cho or Soresu... Which I happen to master." She should have foreseen Dorjander would jump at her throat for that.

"Lightsaber forms fit for multiple opponents and blasters." He made a scoffing sound "Why? Do you mean to prepare our children for war? Last time I checked we were not-"

"-in the mandalorian conflict, yes, I know, Master Kace. But the Galaxy is always at war. And we always ought to prepare our Padawans for it."

"We prepare our Padawans for _peace_ , not war, Master Navab."

"And yet there is always war before there can be peace, Master Kace."

They stared at each other from across their chairs, carefully studying one another's faces. It was again up to Master Vandar to try and defuse the situation.

"I'm sure Master Navab only meant to show her concern about her friend's Padawan, Master Kace. I don't think she meant to enter a discussion about the mandalorian conflict. Our position is, after all, quite clear on that respect." He gazed at Navab from his chair, begging for compliance.

"I could train her."

Those around him exchanged glances. The interruption had been so unexpected, that even Dorjander Kace had seemed to have forgotten about feeling offended.

Regon El-Tar had spoken for the first time, and his voice had held more power in it than any of the other present Jedi Masters.

"If it comes to that, that is."

In lights of her master vanishing into the Unknown Regions of the Galaxy, the last person Karra, (or anybody for that matter), would have hoped to offer tutor Raehla, was El-Tar the 'White Knight' himself. Despite his status as one of the most skilled and rightful Jedi of their time, a champion of the Order, Regon had never taken in on an apprentice; the reasons behind this were ignored. At first Karra had speculated on the possibility that Regon might have been too proud to deem anybody fit of his time, but this hypothesis didn't take too long to die. Regon didn't seem to be preoccupied with pride. In fact, Regon didn't seem to be preoccupied with anything at all.

Just to carry the title of being Regon's apprentice alone would have been enough to spark an unreasonable juvenile jolt of pride within the most self-controlled of Padawans. She had seen them fight harder under his watch, just if they thought they could hold his interest for a longer while; she had seen them endure harder and stricter hours of training, merely longing to catch sight of his approving gaze upon them. And yet Regon, the untouchable, would choose Raehla: a half-blind Padawan with a weak grasp on her lightsaber's hilt. _Training_ lightsaber. Wasn't she a bit old for those?

Of course her technique hadn't been her biggest fault to begin with. It was the attitude that had caused for a few scenarios in the past. Master Vrook himself had dragged Raehla over to Nassow on one occasion, almost enjoying the attention he was attracting to himself on his way to see him. He'd been very vocal on his thoughts about Raehla being a poor influence on his own pupil. That she was ' _too defiant_ '. That's what he kept putting emphasis on, the defiance. But neither stare from any of the present Masters had been enough to get Nassow to back down and apologize on her behalf. Instead, they had heard him say: " _I would have her no other way._ "

Karra smiled, shaking her head. ' _Schutta.'_ She'd thought Vrook would get an aneurysm that day.

But now Nassow was gone, and it mattered not how much they tried to cover it up, Karra knew better than anybody else that stories grow as fast as weeds, and take even longer to disappear. She wouldn't be surprised if she started hearing her old friend's name associated with words the like of ' _rebel_ ' or ' _traitor_ ' or worse: ' _coward_ '. And a Padawan is the echo of his Master after all, for better or for worse. With the sharpest voice of the twelve seats gone, who would be there to speak for Taka'dehj now? _Regon_?

Karra wasn't half the fool she'd have to be to think that. She knew very well that El-Tar's offering to undertake the care of Nassow's Padawan hadn't been an act of sheer benevolence: if those were unlike Council, then they were strictly unknown to Regon El-Tar, their most treasured knight. Jedi Masters do not play around with whom they choose to train. It dawned on her that it wasn't Raehla Regon wanted: it was Kaegan Nassow. To get to him, El-Tar pretty much would need her like a Pazaak player needs a good sidedeck. And Raehla was a Tiebreaker Card. Then again, she could not precisely hold him accountable for the thought. It wasn't like she hadn't had ideas of the kind herself.

"Have you ever _trained_ a Padawan, Regon?" Karra questioned him, digging a nail under the other to pick the dirt hiding underneath. She lifted her eyes "I'm sure you must have heard this is no ordinary pupil." She dismissed nonchalantly "Maybe it would be best if she was left at the hands of someone with more experience… Not that I have any intention to question your career as a teacher before it starts, all things considered." Regon was watching her from the other end, doing an excellent job at masking his mild irritation behind a straight-faced expression.

"I don't see what the problem would be." Atris commented defensively "Master El-Tar has more than proved his value as a Jedi _and_ High Council member."

"And I've never said anything to put that into question." Replied Karra peacefully "For all that matters, Kaegan Nassow was also one of our most honorable and devoted Council members. I can't imagine a scenario where he would do what he did unless he considered it was absolutely necessary for the good of the Council."

"Perhaps… Master Navab is right." Ventured Lonna "This is a difficult Padawan we're talking about, after all. And one that is going through a rather difficult time…"

"I was just making an offer." Master El-Tar tried to appease the situation "It's still on the table, regardless. I wish only to help."

No final decisions were reached that day. To be fair, it was rare when final decisions were reached by the Council at all. Those were hard times. And they were not about to get any easier. Karra crossed her arms, trying to keep the warmth in her body from escaping. Perhaps she should have worn thicker robes.

She'd been following him from afar and was discouraged when she thought she'd lost track of him. Instinct led her to retrace her steps, until she finally caught sight of him leaning out a balcony, watching the sky. She thought he looked taller than the buildings, definitely more majestic.

"You know? Today would mark the start of the twelfth year since the first mandalorian raid. The conquest of Althir, that is." She walked on, taking slower steps.

Regon turned to bow his head and acknowledge the presence of the Jedi Master, but that was all the reply she would get. He returned to watching the ships fly by. Karra wondered if he might have been hopelessly looking to catch sight of the _White Raven_. She knew she had.

"It would also mark the start of the twelfth year that I haven't heard your voice on it. Pray Regon, tell me. What do you think of the mandalorians?"

"I don't think of them." He answered with neither boredom nor interest "Not more than I have to, anyway."

Karra laughed, disappointed.

"An old friend of mine would have said ' _apathy is death_ '." She leaned her body against the balcony's rail.

Regon grimaced.

"There's only one person I've heard say that before. I wouldn't say she's got any 'friends', however."

Karra nodded, staring off into the sun.

"Who does these days?" She sighed.

Regon gave her an estranged look, which his companion brushed off with a smile.

"The Council is growing smaller, can't you feel?"

"Only one of us is gone." He commented innocently.

"For now." She nodded "We both know this stream runs deeper than Kaegan. In fact, I wasn't expecting Kaegan to be one to go at all."

"Neither was I." Regon confessed, almost puzzled.

"The reasons behind his disappearance are a complete mystery." She pushed forward.

Regon fought the impulse to frown in front of Master Navab. He wasn't one to express concerns in front of others. He did not like the exposure.

"For now." He responded without a trace of emotion.

"You look troubled." She noted anyway "Even more so than I do."

"There is no emotion." He reminded her.

"But there once was, was there not?" She reminded him back.

Regon's pace had always been tranquil and careful. It took near a minute for him to react, but once he had, his head had turned with mild violence. There was a more than subtle warning behind his eyes. The politest of his smiles hadn't provided cover enough for her not to see.

Karra grinned satisfied.

"Sometimes I wonder if the Code is but a story we tell our children so that they may sleep better at night." She sniffed "Then again. When was the last time _you_ slept?"

Any other Jedi would have been overwhelmed to hear a member of the High Council speak the way Navab spoke. But all Council members had these thoughts. Some denied them, some hid them, some condemned themselves for them. Regon acknowledged them, Karra voiced them. For this he had learned to take the Twi'lek's words with a seriousness no other Jedi could fathom. There was nothing hiding behind them, for they were as evident as vibroblades. But nobody likes vibroblades held against them.

"Don't let Atris hear you say that."

Karra laughed sweetly.

"Wouldn't dream of it." She mused.

Then she stopped to ponder.

"You and Atris are big friends, aren't you?" She stared down at her bracelet and toyed with its stones, slowly.

"I thought we had no friends."

She stared into his eyes, nodding. He shook his head.

"How did _you_ ever become a member of the High Council?"

She shrugged.

"I'm an incredible untalented dancer, despite what the stereotypes will have you believe. Well. That and..." She pointed at what remained of the tails on her head. Her mother had tried to sever them off when she was still a child, so that she couldn't be sold off to the slavers. Figuring that nobody would buy damaged property if there was plenty good merchandise to find around, had been a smart strategy. In fact: one so smart, it had cost her her life and her daughter's eagerness to look upon a mirror. Yet the resentment of growing up without tails on her head had never been as a terrible as the one of growing up without a mother. Until the Jedi found her, of course.

"I've often wondered if they didn't hinder your balance when you fought." He said.

"You spend a lot of time thinking about my tails?" She raised her eyebrows "Another thing we should probably keep from Atris."

He sighed, amused.

"So what now?" He asked idly.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" She said walking away.


	4. Alek

_Dantooine 3964 BBY_

* * *

 **Alek**

"Darth Revan." He'd mouthed dryly, switching his lightsaber on. The buzz of energy that emanated from his weapon had corrupted the stillness of the plains, turning them into the perfect mausoleum. "I thought I'd find you here." The afterword to his greeting had been the sound of a second and third lightsaber. Their sight had felt more threatening than that of a kathhound baring its teeth. But Master Alek Squinquargesimus wasn't one for fear. He'd been waiting for this encounter for longer than he could remember. The final gamble for the fate of the Republic would end then and there.

The light of Dantooine's moons shone bright upon Revan's back, and the shadow she cast was so large, it made her look taller than he knew her to be. But this impression was strongly encouraged by her sepulchral stance. She stood facing the wind daringly, taking in its final caresses, slightly bowing her head as if greeting their only witness and judge: Death.

"Master Squint. You've foiled my escape for the last time."

Three long seconds passed. Silence was the only common ground they held any longer, so it was natural that it should seal their final respects for one another.

It was Alek who cast the first stone, swinging his lightsaber with a strength that was both impressive in magnitude as it was on its precision. The Sith Lord herself remembered little about self-control: those ways were long since beneath her. She retaliated with the passion of a thousand indomitable beasts, avenging the offense of being defied by someone whom she'd once allowed herself to hold dearly. But there was nothing of the kind left in her heart anymore: the violence of her attacks was proof of that.

Alek was a smart fighter, strongly built, tall. He had learnt his forms with more thoroughness than a pilot could hope to learn a hyperspace route; but every time his body seemed to be about to close in on his opponent, he found himself stumbling in the darkness, swinging his blade against nothing other than the innocent weeds that encircled them. Revan was of a smaller stature, but her speed was unparalleled. She kept teasing her opponent with one saber and attempting on his life with the other, still her promise of death seemed to be taking longer than she'd hoped: no matter how many times she outsmarted him, his blades kept clashing against hers, predicting their moves like an old lover predicts the contour of an old partner's lips.

" _Alek,_ _look out_!" She warned in terror.

He soon understood the game was over and turned his saber before his body, striking the incoming kathhound to the floor before he could care to notice it.

Revan watched her friend run a hand through his hair, processing in silence. It had been a closer call than either of them had liked.

"Are you alright?" She broke the silence.

Once he was fully recovered from the surprise, he turned until their eyes met. Revan's laughter echoed throughout the entirety of the fields. Alek shushed her.

"Do you want the Sandrals to hear you?" But the warning had come in too late. A small tremor was growing powerful underneath their feet. Their eyes widened when they grasped the situation.

Alek shook his head.

"Don't I always say that your laughter sounds like a kathhound mating call?" He said closing in until their backs were nearly touching.

"Come on now, Squint." She snapped "Don't be a sore loser."

He couldn't see her but he knew her well enough to know she was grinning. She had to be.

He would have protested but the hounds were becoming more and more discernible, first as ghastly shadows lurking about them, with tired roars worthy of unforgiving demons; then in full visibility, their eyes first made yellow by the darkness, and then colorful by the blades pointed at their faces.

"I told you I had a bad feeling about this." He complained, tired of being dragged onto another of Revan's schemes. " _This is the last one._ " He'd told her. But both had known he'd been untrue, Revan even more so than Alek.

"How many can you count?" But before she could care to hear what her friend had to say to that, the alpha hound had jumped to avenge his lost sleep, his claws fully intending to mark her face, much unlike Alek's saber had just moments before. The others were quick to follow their leader into battle with a boldness firaxa sharks could only dream of, not once losing their nerve if they saw the other members of their pack lose their lives in their revenge.

The fight seemed to be wearing them out sooner rather than later, but before they could care to be weakened, they noticed the beasts were no longer attacking them. Rather than that, all aggression seemed to had vanished from their faces. Revan wasn't too sure this hadn't been a trap orchestrated by the hounds, but she sure didn't listen when Alek warned her not to go any nearer. In full proximity, she looked into the depths of one's eye and waved a hand in front of the other: nothing. The kathhounds were catatonic.

" _You fools_!" They were called from afar. A voice too familiar for their taste.

Revan's eyes had shown unwavering courage when she had crossed blades with Alek that night. It had made him secretly hope never to cross her on a real battle.

Revan's eyes had shown utmost serenity when a large number of kathhounds had pounced upon them, eager to tear their ever limb apart. It had made him secretly hope that, if he were to die, she would be there by his side.

But when Revan's eyes were struck by the full understanding of the situation, he saw a sight so rare, it was almost a delight to witness: it was fear, no doubt. This in turn, had made him secretly desire to cause an impact of the kind one day.

They said Jedi experienced no such thing as wrath, but Revan's master had cast a shadow of doubt upon that thought many a time before.

Turning only confirmed what they had feared: the lioness had come in to rescue the cubs. Or rather, to introduce them into a duller form of punishment, one performed in the manner of languid speech.

"It should be you I ought to have entranced. It was not the hounds that were at fault, it was the fools disguised as Jedi." Master Kae was barking "If you think to hold a lightsaber is enough to call yourself one, you have failed to grasp what it is you do here."

"Master!" Revan fell to her knee. Alek followed her approach.

"Rise, Revan. I will have you stand when I address you." It was as though Alek wasn't present. But there was nothing new in that respect.

The Padawans exchanged a glance of contained horror and rose to their feet.

For once, Alek took it upon himself to try and lesser their sentences. Revan had gotten them into trouble, perhaps it should be up to him to get them out of it.

"Forgive us, Master Kae. We were just practicing…" He said humbly. He saw his best friend's lips curve with distaste, trying to keep a sigh from escaping them.

Like any Jedi, Alek was a reasonably talented orator. His teachings had been kind to him. But it was not teachings that made Revan the greater mediator of the two, for what Revan had could not be taught. In the words of Master Kae, Alek had been well versed in the Basic tongue, while Revan had been well versed in the _common_ tongue: a language though largely understood by all, was spoken but by a few.

" _Forgiveness_? Do you think it was my self-entitlement that led me to walk this far in the dead of the night? I would advise you to think again, were I to be invested into what it is you thought." She unfolded her arms and her breathing slowed, giving in to thought. If there was one thing she liked better than snapping at the youths, then that must have been teaching them "Or perhaps you sought to find redemption from me, in which case I say to you that I do not condone such delusions. It is your own decisions that have brought you here; apologizing for them demeans the core of your existence. Unless…" Alek bowed his head down and vowed to himself never to interfere again; the woman was beyond his charms. Revan simply tried her hardest not to laugh. Her Master's head turning over to face her was of big help "Revan." She called, still severe, but with a subtle deference to her voice.

"Yes, Master?"

"Have I not taught you to be careful?"

"Yes, Master."

"When, Padawan?"

"In all that I do," She replied "and in every choice that I make." ' _We were just playing_ ' Her eyes were saying.

Arren Kae studied her.

"And yet here you are, preaching my words from memory, robbing them of any meaning. Hearing does not equate to listening, Padawan. You would do well to remember that next time."

"There won't be a next time." She promised.

"I shall hope so. Otherwise it would mean that the past few sentences have done all but enter your brain. And I am not keen on wasting my time."

Revan smiled. Alek knew better than to roll his eyes over.

"When you're done here, my Servant droid will be waiting for you."

"It's malfunctioned again?" She inquired innocently "The Force sure works in mysterious ways." She muttered to herself, watching as Kae walked away.

"Not any more mysterious than droids, as of lately." She was heard. There was that wrath again.

Alek could never fully understand the reason why Master Kae had cultivated Revan's interest for droids with such vehemence, when she herself had held such little love for them. But watching Revan work at them had shown him a part of his friend that he could not remember seeing elsewhere. When he thought about peace, serenity and harmony, he never thought of Jedi holding lightsabers in the bright of day: he thought of Revan, holding a hydrospanner in the hush of night.

Turning to see why Revan had screamed in agony was a mistake. He should have known Revan had never been the kind of person to be in need of much assistance. By the time he'd turned, she'd stricken down the incoming beast with a saber and was preparing to slay another with her free hand. But that sight only kept him from seeing that which had lunged upon him. One by one, the remaining hounds were recovering their senses.

They fought until it was quiet again, and all that could be heard were their two beating hearts in the still, overlapped only by the buzzing of lightsabers. Revan switched off hers and turned, panting happily.

"Well, that was a rush."

Of course, Alek's brow wasn't half as relaxed.

"Revan, your eye…!" He exclaimed, catching his breath.

She led a hand over to her right eye and was surprised to see a substantial amount of blood pouring from a gash that started at the end of her eyebrow and ended at the start of her cheek. It was the first time she'd noticed the sting, but it became impossible to ignore ever since.

"It's probably nothing." Blood started dripping into her eye.

Alek closed in to examine the wound. He took her face in his hands and moved it around, trying to determine just how deep the cut had been. Once he was satisfied, he sighed irritated.

"The Force must really like you. You could have lost your eye." He smeared the blood off her face with his sleeve despite her flinching "Put some pressure on it. We should get to the infirmary soon. I still don't like the looks of it…"

"Calm down, Squint, would you re-" She contained a gasp "Yeah, we should probably head over to the infirmary." She changed her playful tone for authority.

The sudden change of heart made Alek realize he was probably not all too well himself, and figured that whatever was now trickling down his forehead must have been blood. He led a curious hand to his head, and his fingers were first met by a sticky warm surface, then by a throbbing pain.

"We'll tell them there was hundreds." Revan joked.

"Let's go." Alek set on his way.

The walk back to the Enclave was carried out in silence, save for Revan's whistling and the roar of wind: a ritual both were well accustomed to. She would now and then turn her head to make sure her friend was alive and well, never removing the pressure of her hand on top of her wound. It was a ridiculous sight, thought Alek. It would make a fine story, thought Revan.

The medical droids had no problem treating Revan's injury: the kathhound's claw had reached her face by that much. If she'd backed down any later, half of her eyesight would have been lost forever. Instead, she would get a threatening scar across her eye as memento of her decision making.

Alek had been just as lucky, yet it was due to the location that his wound had been harder to clean and fix. Despite his protest, at some point he was left with no more option than to accept that his hair would have to be sacrificed. He voiced his discontent by openly complaining each time the droid would pinch a tad over his pain tolerance, but he knew that coming to terms with his appearance was what would pain him the hardest. Once the deed had been done, he ran a hand through his shaved head, finding a strange discomfort in it.

"We look so _bad_." Revan laughed from across the room, waving him goodnight with her hydrospanner in hand.

On his way to his room, he crossed paths with Master Kae. ' _Good._ ' He thought. He'd wanted her to see what her teachings had cost them. But Master Kae wasn't an easy person to impress, and that wasn't about to be his first exception.

"Are you well, Padawan?" She inquired, her motives unknown to him. It hadn't seemed like it was his health she was concerned about; she wasn't one to hand over explanations, only questions. And those questions were never about a personal curiosity of her own, rather than instigating it on a third person. There was always something else behind the Master's words: it was the reason Revan could love her and Alek could not.

"Yes, Master Kae. Thank you." He grunted "The pain isn't fully gone yet." He felt like adding subtly, if only to see a tinge of remorse.

"Good." She had replied, openly satisfied with herself "It will make you stronger."

She was about to leave, but rather than that, she stayed to take a second look at him. To Alek it had felt like the first fraction of attention she'd ever granted him.

"And I would keep the new appearance too." She said with feigned disinterest.

Alek did not want to defy her, but his eyebrows had felt so otherwise.

"You disagree?" It felt strange to see her smile. Wrong, even.

"I'd rather forget about this, Master Kae." He tried to explain himself "I'm not exactly proud of what went on tonight."

"All the more reason, wouldn't you think?" Her eyebrows rose, but her eyes were set sharp on his "I suppose it all comes down to what you'd rather see the next time you look upon a mirror... Is it that which you have become? Or that which you'd rather be?" Alek didn't answer "Oh, there's no shame in wanting the latter, bald one, that's what most people would pick. But you'll be a fool to think you'll find any strength in oblivion. There is no greater failure than refusing to learn from yours; no greater weakness."

Alek watched her turn and go, making promises to himself not to pay her any mind; one for every step she gave. But he would soon find it that the words of the Jedi Master stung like a kinrath's stinger, and spread through his mind faster than their poison could spread through a man's system.


	5. Dorjander

_Coruscant 3964 BBY_

* * *

 **Dorjander**

He knew she would fade if he reached out, but the sight of her had always rendered him helpless. Once, his hand had been well accustomed to the surface of her umber skin- frail to the gentle touch, but tougher than a rancor's armour if encountered in battle; it had known all her curves and blended in with all of her motions, trying to make them his. It was automatic; he hadn't meant to make her disappear… But just like that, Varda was gone.

He opened his eyes. Her memory had left a taste so sweet it had long since made everything seem sour in comparison.

He sat on the edge of his bed and stretched, frowning. He was thinking of Nassow, shaking his head time and again. Why?

He didn't know.

It was not yet dawn; still he put on his robes on and paced out of his room, off to wander through the corridors of the Academy. He'd hoped that maybe, if he was lucky, he'd run across a disobedient Padawan to tell off, but there had been no one with whom to indulge his longing for rightful speeches. Ah, everybody was so obedient these days. His Padawans had caused him his fair share of work once. But that had been too many years back: only maintenance droids lurked about him now, like hssiss haunting in the dark. And he was their Master. Well. There was also her, he guessed.

He knew she had been following him. He could feel her in the air. But he also knew that turning wouldn't reveal her, not unless he called her out. So on he walked, waiting for a time in which he could be finally bothered to face her. It was too early still: he hadn't gotten a chance to scrape off the final pieces of yesterday's mask.

And so he thought of Nassow. But of course, not the Nassow that everyone had been talking about: that one's name would not be forgotten any day soon. Once he had made it his mission to speak the name of the dead, lest they vanished like shadows in the night. And so he whispered to himself dutifully " _Kaeli_ ", like he was greeting an old friend. Which he was.

He kept on his march, buried in thought, leading her into the open field. It would be a good morning to witness from the field. He didn't want her to miss it.

Now, he did not know why Kaegan had gone, but unlike the others, it didn't take him half as much trouble to figure out why he'd left his beloved Padawan behind. In more than one way, the relationship he had held with his most favoured Padawan once, mirrored the bond which Nassow and Taka'dehj seemed to have. He too, had left his Padawan behind on one occasion, and she had never quite forgiven him for it. He could only pity the fool for all the trouble his decision would cost him. But then he figured Nassow had been well aware of this, and that his choice hadn't been so much a choice as it had been a matter of the inevitable.

He walked further, humming to himself. Humming, as with most old people, helped him think.

Dorjander had left for war. The Great Sith War, to be precise. He wondered if maybe Kaegan had left to join the Mandalorian Wars against the wishes of the Council, like some had started to whisper, but he shook his head in skepticism. No, of course not. He knew better than to think Kaegan could be someone so easily predictable; so easily broken into a menu of vaguely universal options. Besides, that wouldn't have kept him from letting Raehla find out, had that been the case: wherever he had gone to, he couldn't risk being followed. He shuddered to think what could have possibly driven the man away without so much as taking a chance to say ' _goodbye_ '. Both of them knew how precious that single word could be. Both of them knew the terrible burden that was not being able to utter it for a last time.

Nassow had fought so hard for her, for Raehla, that is. As hard as Kace himself had fought for Karra once, which further proved problematic Padawans could turn into the finest of Council members, (despite their reproachable views on politics, perhaps). He would have figured leaving her behind, (even if it had been in her best interest), would have equated to leaving her to freely wander into the rakghoul's mouth. Yet she had two High Council members fighting over her apprenticeship. One of them had breathed Kaeli Nassow's name back to life. The other had been following him since he'd left his chambers.

"You too are here to talk about my dead wife?" He spoke loud and clear as he turned.

He could tell he'd sent a chill down Navab's spine with his choice of words, so he quickly drew a lazy smile upon his face, breathing in the fresh morning air. This sent the message across that he hadn't meant to be truly hostile towards her; this was a private talk after all, not a Council meeting. There was nobody else to impress.

"What's wrong?" He teased "You didn't think you were the first one to come to me, did you?"

Karra Navab stood with her arms crossed, studying him from a safe distance. She only approached him when he offered her his arm, knowing that an audition with Dorjander Kace was only meaningful if he'd been the one to initiate it.

"Let's take a walk." He whispered peacefully, watching her eyes shimmer behind a thick layer of lashes. He smiled in return, and he was glad that this could still please her; even when his smiles were but a shell of what they'd once been, an echo to a song nobody remembered the words to, save for the two. This Dorjander only existed for her either in the early hours of the morning or the late hours of the night anymore, when the halls would be uncrowded and there would be no one left to perform for: just two people who remembered they were friends. That the day might come one day, where they might have to kill one another, was a thought reserved for _after_ that frame of time, when the rest of the Galaxy would be there to kindly remind who they were, and what they were destined for.

"You're quiet. I never like it when loud people are quiet. It often means they have something big to say."

"Don't I always?" She smiled nearly preoccupied, but serene.

He frowned, thoughtfully.

"I suppose that's true." He granted after some consideration.

They walked in silence until they reached the training fields, welcoming the first rays of sun upon their faces.

"You can't win, Karra." He said after a while, leaning down to sit on a bench. Karra sat beside him "Not like this, anyway."

"What do you mean?" She replied with mild innocence.

He pointed his index finger right between her eyes, calling out the bluff.

"This." He said "This little game that you're playing in the dark against him. You may be the Twi'lek of the two, but we both know he's the better dancer."

"Do you have any idea how offensive that is?"

"But you _are_ a poor dancer."

She laughed, he mimicked.

"You know what's worse than a loud person who goes quiet?" He searched for her lilac eyes. She shook her head "A quiet person who starts talking." He said "That's the most dangerous kind of man of all… That's a man that's been waiting to talk, carefully gathering the words throughout the years, repeating them to himself in the shadows, if only to pass the time." He was something of an expert on the subject.

"Do you think of Regon as someone dangerous?" She was almost mocking him.

"Why, in his own way, yes." He rubbed his eyes, trying to stay awake "Why is the girl so important to him, anyway?" The question won him over.

Karra looked away, defeated.

"I don't know." She confessed "What did he say?"

"Can't you guess?"

"That she's a promising Padawan from a respectable teacher? That her talents shouldn't be wasted just because her master is gone?"

He shrugged.

"Something along those lines, yes. His phrasing was superior, I must say. More… _Intricate_." He nodded.

She shook her head, seemingly hopeless. He carefully observed her reactions.

"He speaks their language, Karra. You do not. You're too honest to handle their jargon." He grinned "I made sure of that." He said "But that don't need be an obstacle for you: you have equally as useful talents, Padawan. Use them."

She sweetly gazed at him, displaying a fake expression of disapproval.

"I'm not your Padawan anymore, Master Kace." She would have to remind him.

He smiled.

"Ah, perhaps not." He nodded "But you do still speak in _their_ tongue." He said "And that's something Regon cannot dream to compete against."

Karra's eyes had grown nervous, jumping from the ground onto the trees and from the trees onto the balconies. He suddenly felt what she'd felt: the Academy had started to wake. He knew she would stand to go any minute now, so he kept his arm locked to hers tight.

"Not yet, Karra, not yet." He murmured "There's something I want you to see first."

Whether he was making a mistake or not, he'd stopped dwelling on upon seeing her face that morning. He, better than anyone, had seen into the hearts of those that had been labeled as 'trouble', and seen their inner purity make them rise among their noblest. It had also been him who'd seen the fairest and the neat succumb into an endless spiral of corruption, taking down their promises of light as they slowly swirled away, taking all they could get their hands on with them into the darkness. He needn't see twice in Karra's direction to know the latter would never be her fate. For anybody else he couldn't speak.

Navab sat waiting patiently beside him, trying to adjust her sight to see if she could anticipate what would come. It was when she noticed Master Kace shaking his head that she complied and closed her eyes.

"Can't you feel her?" He whispered in true admiration, dying to know. Kace closed his eyes and lost himself to the murmur of the leaves being caressed by the hush of wind, longing only to let the presence of his former student overshadow their song. But it mattered not how much he tried to remember: whenever he felt like he was about to reach out and feel her, he would stumble upon one wall after the other. As Master and apprentice they had once shared a bond, but if all bonds well tend to deafen over the years, theirs had withered with every argument that they had started and never ended, fading like snowflakes in the sun, slipping into their deaths.

"Yes." She answered after a while, in newfound peace.

"But of course you can." He replied "One could not help but feel drawn to her, in much the same manner that matter feels drawn into a black hole." He opened his eyes, still feeling the echo of her steps growing nearer.

Karra woke from her trance when she heard the clash of lightsabers.

"She's arrived from Dantooine last week." He said proudly "With all the commotion that's been going on lately I suppose it's slipped by a few of us. Not all of us though."

Behind Master Kavar had followed an apprentice. The two had seemingly woken earlier than the others, eager to practice with the entire field to themselves and, possibly, to escape the eyes of an unwanted audience. But unwanted audiences are rarely ever escaped, which is what makes them unwanted in the first place.

"Who is she?" Navab asked in wonder.

"The name is Meetra Surik." He answered "But it's not the name that defines her; it's not the name that will answer your question."

She watched them go at it with delight. _There_ was a real champion, thought Karra. She could feel it.

"Look up." He warned her after a while.

Her eyes combed the balconies that faced the deserted training field, finding nothing.

"Where?"

"Near the end of the right wing." He kept his gaze down, enjoying the sun "On a window."

She searched carefully until she saw Atris leaning on a window's sill. Her stance had been as solemn as ever, but her face held an expression she couldn't say she'd seen before. She didn't have to follow the trail of her eyes to know the cause: it was Surik, she knew.

The buzzing ceased. She couldn't hear Kavar from that distance, but she could tell they'd apparently be taking a break.

They watched in silence as Surik ran a hand through her hair, tightening the band about her ponytail. The eyes of the young apprentice were marveled by the sight of the building, devoid of life save for the few droids that patrolled around its corridors, its engines echoing all the way back to the field. And then she noticed Atris looking at her. And Atris noticed she'd been noticed.

Navab, Kace and Surik watched as Atris bowed her head and turned to go, but they all saw different things.

Surik couldn't fully understand what she had seen. As far as she'd been concerned, the eyes of a Jedi Master had coincidentally crossed hers. Navab and Kace shared a look of mutual understanding.

"Why are you helping me?" She muttered after a pause "It's not like my teachings thrill you, to name one good example."

Kace smiled bitterly.

"Have you ever heard about Kaeli Nassow?" He asked in return.

It was more of a rhetorical question. Of course she had. As a young girl, she had never been half as quick as her fellow Padawans to discard the stories haunting the walls. The Academy's halls were long and old, and if one listened carefully enough, one would find that they could whisper the tales that they had gathered along with the dust; tales that no other voice would dare utter in day light. But other than discouraging them and degrading them as rumours, the Council knew that little could be done to stop the ever underlying current of the past. After all, the future is always written upon its tail.

So he wasn't surprised when she nodded gravely.

"And you have heard about Varda." He mentioned her name not without some effort on his part.

Karra was reluctant to nod, so she just stared back at him.

"That's alright. I know you have. It's no secret." He soothed her.

"It's not talked about either." She said bravely "By you most of all."

Kace stood up and stretched.

"Precisely." He mused "She was _mine_. She is meant to stay that way." He scratched his beard, pretending to be unfazed "You know- I had always held a distant form of respect for Regon; to me he seemed like the only one who could understand what the war had taken from me. I reckon Kaegan lost her too, but… That was different." His sentenced trailed off "We've never talked about them, Karra. We may have shared a nod if we crossed paths on the halls, but in the thirty-two years that it's been since we've returned from the war against Exar Kun, there wasn't a single occasion in which we've talked about them. For _that_ I respected him. Because he _knew_." He took a deep breath "And then one day, not long after Kaegan disappeared, not long before _you_ showed up, he resurrects her name in casual conversation, as if her memory were an oath he could tacitly collect from me. And suddenly I felt afraid," He confessed, like all strong men, not afraid to show his vulnerability "because I realized everyone in the Council has a Varda of their own that he can lure with his Kaelis… Well, everyone but you." He turned to face her "We have many differences you and I, _Force knows_..." His lips curved forming a smile, but his eyes held as much solemnity as his words "You, for one, look at the Council and think it's disintegrating. I know it _already has_." His eyes came and went from Surik and Kavar at practice "I've taught you once, you might well remember, that you only have a right to complain about injustice so long as you're actively trying to change it. We have different ways to come about it, I'll admit, but at least we share that one honesty in our fight, whatever differences our paths may hold." He took her hand in his " _That_ is why I'm helping you."

The lesson was over.


	6. Revan

_Dantooine 3964 BBY_

* * *

 **Revan**

Formation.

The proof that even a routine one is well-adjusted to can become fear inducing, if inconvenient. The front rows stand, as always, spotless and arrect, save for one shaved head that inconspicuously turns to the low murmurs of Padawans elbowing one another in the back.

But Revan is nowhere to be seen, squirming for a place in the back with the rest of the oversleepers. It's always harder in the lower rows; Alek could never stand the stress that meant surviving them. A threat of Force push here, an arguably accidental shove in the stomach there... There was no place for such nonsense in the front rows: they would see you if you tried anything... _disorderly_. To Revan, however, the rows in the back were all about the thrill and about assessing one's survival and leading skills. Alek had many a reason to believe this explanation was nothing but an aggrandized excuse.

" _Pst_."

Someone calls, but nobody wants to turn and face responsibility.

 _"Hey Rev...!"_ The whisper tries not to become a shout " _Revan!"_ The caller fights his way next to her right side.

" _What do you want?"_ Revan asks disdainfully, not once losing sight of the front. Her eyes search desperately for any hint that might give him away: the silver plating of his armour reflecting the first rays of the sun, a single strand of white hair being carried by the winds of Dantooine... But nothing.

" _I'll give you 50 credits for your saber_."

" _Bugger off, Kip."_ She tries to silence him.

" _75 credits."_

"I said no!" She finally turns to glare at him, raising her voice.

Kipper looks as though he's going to break.

" _Please, I already have two marks!"_ He pleads " _I'll... I'll give you 20% of my Pazaak earnings...!"_

The other Padawans are turning around to scowl and shush at them. The time for last minute transactions is running out. Because sure, drill formation is important, of course. And even under regular circumstances alone, nobody would wish for a third mark next to their name: that means punitive measures, which often comes in the manner of helping Master Dorak order and re-order Jedi archives until he fancies himself satisfied.

But drill formation when a visitor is on the premises? If for some reason anybody ruined formation for the special guest, Master Zhar would have everyone make up for it in educational holo vids that would last millenia. Which meant who ever brought that upon the battalion would be severely tormented by the rest, in private.

Kipper sees Revan's face transform with conflict.

"Revan, I'm _begging_ you, that's _all I have_!" Someone shushes Kip reproachingly.

Revan sighs tiresomely, giving up.

 _"Alright_ , _fine."_ She grunts " _Make that 50%."_ She starts to hurriedly remove her lightsaber from her belt.

" _Done."_

She can hear their voices grow nearer as they advance through the ranks, Zhar's and Dorak's. They're talking avidly, introducing pupils as they pass inspection. But the third voice, the important voice, she can not yet hear.

" _Mali."_ She whispers in the ear of the girl to her left.

" _Shut_ up, _Revan. I'm not falling for that again."_

" _Mali, look at me, it's important."_ She said gravely.

Mali turned her face and Revan stared deeply into her eyes.

" _You will give me your lightsaber."_

" _I will give you my lightsaber."_ Mali repeated almost inaudibly, surrendering her weapon.

Kipper snickered.

" _If you tell my Master, I swear I will come back for you when she's done with me."_ She told him, placing Mali's saber into her own belt as fast as her fingers would allow.

" _Tell her what? That you used the Force to pass inspection? I'm careless, not an idiot, you know."_

Revan grins at him.

" _No. I fancy she'd be rather proud of that. Just don't ever tell her that I helped you."_

Kipper shruggs.

" _We helped one another."_

"General, this is Trya Ketto." Master Zhar introduces.

The suddenness of the introduction makes all heads in the row turn to the left. Master Zhar continues to make one or two observations about the pupil, but it's as though nobody is truly listening. They all watch as Trya Ketto salutes and the Echani General nods gracefully, offering his hand to the Padawan for the shaking. True power is a rare thing to witness at such young age.

Power, Revan soon understands, but not in the way the Jedi or the Sith seem to comprehend it. The way he parades around, the way he stands. His stance majestic, his steps full of authority. His, she knows at heart, is a walk thousands would follow to the corners of the galaxy. Not for the Jedi, or the Sith, or the Republic, or the Outer Rim. But _for him_.

"He's very reserved." Revan observes, taking note of every breath that Yusanis draws as he grows nearer.

"He's very handsome." Kipper replies.

Revan shakes her head. Yes, he was handsome. But he was so much more than that.

It had been her Master who had first brought any attention to her about him; she had done so distractedly and in simple conversation, but it was ever so uncommon when Master Kae spoke highly of anyone at all. To think a minor slip of the tongue alone could have driven Revan into major frenzy of incesant inquiries, late night readings, weeks long studies of his war strategies. To the Galaxy, Yusanis was a renowned strategist of the Echani; to Revan, he was a legend. And there he was, in the flesh and in the bone and in traditional Echani armour. His face unmarked by weapons, but not unmarked by war; a skin so white and features so sharp he reminded her of the icy surface of Telos. And soon his blue eyes would cross her own, any minute now, like sabers clashing in battle.

"Kevan Tate." Master Zhar introduced yet another Padawan in the distance. "Kevan came to us with the first wave of refugees fleeing the Mandalorian raids. He's shown a great deal of dedication to the study of the lightsaber arts. He'll make a fine guardian one day."

Dorak studied the Padawan. His lightsaber was in place, his face was clean shaven, his robes properly worn, his shoes well tied. He looked deep into Tate's eyes and and Tate's looked back at him without fear. He decided Tate had passed inspection without a comment and moved along.

Again, Yusanis nodded amicably, listened carefully to his companions, shook the Padawan's hand and followed the Jedi Masters, as if conferring the illusion that he were but a simple sheep being guided by his pastors. A sheep whom they still needed to impress, however.

"Theys Syn." Zhar went on "Her double-bladed skills are unparalleled."

" _So's her arrogance."_ Kipper muttered to himself.

Revan contained a chuckle and bumped his fist discretely.

Master Dorak drew closer for the customary inspection. Lightsaber, uniform, shoes... Check, check, check.

Soon they were standing right upon them.

"Malika Venn." Master Zhar made the proper introductions. Malika saluted, smiled and stood very rigidly.

Master Dorak took one good look at her and discovered the obvious missing element.

"Mali... Where's your lightsaber?" He was almost sorry.

Mali's cheeks flushed as her hand instinctively reached for her saber only to meet the touch, not of metal, but of an empty spot in her belt. The fury in her eyes betrayed the name in her mind: Revan.

The rage was evident, but she said nothing. There is no place for womp rats among Padawans.

"Forgive me, Masters. General." She bowed "I must have forgotten." She said without much conviction.

"This is your second mark, Padawan. Don't forget it."

"I won't."

Kipper did what little he could to conceal a "cough". Revan bit her lips so hard they almost parted.

And so the party moved along, and suddenly it seemed that the impulse for laughter had vanished.

Master Zhar spoke her name, but she could hardly hear what he had to say about her. It was hard to tell which pumped harder, whether her heart or her brain. Words and thoughts were all mingling together and all that reached her mind was static.

"It's an honour." She managed to mumble as Yusanis extended his hand politely.

When her hand reached for the General's, a powerful feeling took over Revan's body. It compelled her to pull her hand away, as if the touch of his fingers had caused for a thousand electric currents to chill down her spine. He smiled, and whether she had managed to mirror the gesture, she was unaware.

All that Revan was, was forgotten. She'd forgotten all about laughter and clowning for her friends. She'd forgotten about being a Padawan, and Dantooine, and the Mandalorians. She forgot about Alek. She forgot about Master Kae. The handshake had taken all the impossibly intrincate bits that englobed her past and present, and shattered them without warning. They had been made irrelevant in the face of her future, which was now politely making small talk while she stared at him.

"Revan, is it?" She first heard Yusani's voice "I've been told a great deal about you."

That voice. Had she heard it speak before? No, that was impossible. But that she would be hearing it again in the future, that much was a certainty.

Revan felt feverish. She couldn't shake the feeling that she would be the last person to hear it, as well.

Yusanis finally lost grasp of her hand.

"You have, sir? Good things, I hope." She said with the utmost respect.

Where was the cheekiness? The secret sarcastic defiance? Master Zhar could not tell, but he was pleased that it seemed to be buried elsewhere. He still couldn't help but ogle.

"Your Master is an old friend of mine, young Padawan. She's told me all about your admiration for the Echani teachings." He seemed overzealous to have finally met with her "Tell me: is it true that you wish to be trained in our combat style after your training as a Padawan is complete?"

Now Revan seemed embarrassed.

"I would like nothing more." She confessed sheepishly, which had never been the tone of her confessions in the past.

"Well, our forces would be delighted to wait for that day, should it ever arrive. I promise you'll always have a place among my people waiting for you, for as long as you like."

Revan's heart was beating so loud she could hardly hear the rest of it. Surely this proposal had been entangled into one of her Master's many, _many_ orchrestations, but that did not diminish the fact that her hero had just personally come down to extend this invitation to her. _Her_.

"I'd be honoured." She replied breathlessly.

Yusanis smiled goodbye and the party moved on, off to pass inspection on Kipper, and so on.

As soon as they were far gone, Kip elbowed her arm. Revan barely noticed.

" _What. The. Fuck, Revan_." He whispered manically " _Did that just happen?"_

She lead a hand to her chest and exhaled deeply, assessing the situation.

" _I guess it just did._ " She responded absent mindedly.

The day went on as normal, if one could consider normal being observed by foreigners. The General's daughters had also come to visit. The resemblance between the five of them was uncanny, but more impressive was the resemblance between them and their father. As worthy daughters of a respected General, they did not cause for much trouble. They were polite, reserved and beautiful. But when their presence was not required in social appearances, they would run off to the plains and play. It was hard to look away: five little princesses, white as alabaster, running and fighting one another as if the planet was nothing more than a playground for them to discover. Yet their joy felt so distant and hard to endure. She kept staring at them with unexplained guilt.

Revan was forced to look away when Alek's fist flew straight into her face, however.

She landed on the ground and willed her lightsaber back into her hand.

" _Asshole."_ She rose to her feet.

"It could have been _my saber_ up your brains, Rev!" He opened his arms wide with irritated confusion, as if he were deserving of an explanation. It serves no purpose to fight a distracted opponent.

Revan just stood there, gaping at him, feeling the ache in her cheek. She first noticed they were surrounded by other pairs of Padawans doing the exact same thing they were supposed to be doing: duel practicing.

"Are you hurt?" Alek's facial expressions mellowed, trying to hide his worry.

Revan hissed.

"Don't patronize me."

She switched on her lightsaber again and lunged upon him with unrestrained speed. Alek was almost too late to block her attack on time, but despite his celerity, Revan used the Force to push him to the ground and point her blade directly at his neck. Her free hand called for her rival's saber, killing any hopes that he might retrieve it. Now two weapons were threatening his life.

He gasped. She smiled and withdrew the blades from his face.

"That's cheating." He complained.

"If this were a war, no, it wouldn't be." She offered him his saber back. He grabbed her arm and slowly pulled himself together.

His eyes pierced hers, filled with doubt. They let go of one another's arms.

"What's wrong?" He finally asked.

She opened her mouth, but before a sound could come out, her eyes met those of her Master in the back.

She grabbed Alek's shoulder with confidence, then patted his cheek with tenderness.

"N-Nothing. I'm sorry Alek, you'll have to do without me right now... There's someone I have to talk to."

Had it been possible, he would have convinced her to stay behind and give a name to her fear... But even before he could turn to see, he understood who it was that waited for her in the shadows: asking Revan to turn away from Arren Kae would have been like asking a planet to turn away from its sun. Master Kae had a lot of students, but the bond she shared with Revan was a different kind of special.

Yet there was something about Revan's walk... Something _anew_. Or perhaps it was the first time he noticed?

He watched as Revan marched in a straight line, slow, but steadily. It was as though she were unaware of the multiple ongoing duels around her, but the carelessness of her manner never once reached her, never once got her harmed. It was as though she'd calculated each step in sync with every blade that encircled her. All around her, all he saw were soldiers shooting soldiers, Jedi slaying Jedi, and Revan, at the center of it, unscathed. And him...? He stood there, beyond her reach, unspoken, watching her fade from afar. He wanted to stop her, but going after her proved to be a false move.

"Watch it, Squint!" Elian replied angrily upon stumbling into him.

Alek stared at him, entranced. Elian was still a Padawan, but he had seen the Jedi he would become: a dead one. He'd seen the hero laying cold in the ground, no one to claim him save the battlefield that would become his grave. And Revan still walked, away from him, away from everyone.

"Dantooine." He told himself, suddenly afraid, clearing sweat from his forehead.

Elian shook his head, warned him to be careful again and resumed his training, paying him no more mind.

Alek looked around, trying to put the funereal feelings stemming from his heart at rest. Dantooine, he reminded himself again. This is _still_ Dantooine, he tightened the grasp on his saber.

He looked for Revan in the crowd again, aghast, but marveled nonetheless. If a hurricane was upon them, then she was its eye. And though he could see the horrors that would revolve around her, he couldn't help but feel her pull.

And then he noticed Arren Kae was looking straight at him. Normally he would have opted to look away, fearing what she might discover about him, but this time was unlike the others. This time he held her gaze, and it was a gaze that contained the first signs of what would become of him: his eyes blamed her, flaming with fear, and anger, and hopelessness.

 _Revan!_ He wanted call out. _Revan, please turn back._

But then he watched in terror as her master put her arms around her, not once letting him out of her sight.

Alek frowned.

Master Kae smiled.


	7. Martyn

_Coruscant 3964 BBY_

* * *

 **Martyn**

It soon becomes hard for Martyn to ignore that, yet again and much to his disturbance, Vektor is comfortably sleeping on his chest, undisturbed.

This is becoming a problem, he soon understands with mild irritation. He looks about the room and is grateful to find that at least this time he is not waking up on his own chambers, and that his clothes are not that far from his reach. That tends to ease things up when one needs to make for a quick departure. If only he were a Jedi to will his clothes into coming to him effortlessly.

He stirrs in bed subtly, trying to cause for his companion to wake from his slumber. When Vektor finally opens his eyes, his first reaction is to turn his head slowly towards Martyn, and smile. Martyn smiles back, but internally he can't help but fear that the expression in Vektor's eyes might hold more warmth than he can handle. Vektor's index finger caresses the tip of his nose affectionately.

"Good morning." He whispers.

Indeed that is more familiarity than he could possibly handle during daytime.

"Good morning." He yawns with the crooked smile that is his signature.

Martyn begins to slowly incorporate himself when, without a warning, his head turns to the windows.

"What time is it?" He inquires all of the sudden.

Vektor's arm clumsily reaches for an alarm clock; Martyn's, for his clothes.

"It's only 10AM... Why?" He watches as Martyn starts to dress.

He sighs once it becomes clear to him: it's not about the time. It's never once been about the time.

"I'm late for..." His imagination fails him "I don't recall what it was exactly, surely something stupid of my mother's..." He covers up.

"If it's so stupid, then why not stay?" His arm reaches out for Martyn's shirt, pulling him invitingly.

Martyn turns around smiling jovially and kisses Vektor on the lips.

"You know I would if I could." He caresses his cheek.

Vektor collapses on the bed, slowly remembering how to resent the Ulgo boy.

"For someone who couldn't wait to button my shirt down last night, you sure are fast to button up your own now." He muttered dejectedly.

Far from feeling insulted, Martyn found a strange, comforting amusement in the comment.

"I'm sorry." He said, not feeling sorry "Er...? This was f-" He turned at the door, running a nervous hand through his hair.

"Just go." Vektor turned in bed and paid him no more mind. Martyn shrugged and accepted that this was his cue to leave.

"My Lord!" He was greeted upon his return.

He failed to grasp how it was that, even when he'd enter through the backdoors of his Estate to avoid being sighted, there would always be someone there to pester him regardless. It took the fun from being rich.

He nearly jumped.

"CK. What is it?" He turned to meet the servant droid.

"Your mother isn't home." He started.

"Why, that is one _excellent_ way to start the day." He patted the droid's shoulder cheerfully "Keep up the good work."

"But-, My Lord: there is someone here claiming they want to meet with her." CK informed dutifully.

Martyn smiled mischievously.

"Oh, I doubt _that_." He started his way towards the library with disinterest. The droid trailed behind him.

"It's a Jedi Master, my Lord!" The droid insisted "I doubt it would be wise to be rude to someone so important... If you would just see to him...!"

Martyn was half-way up the stairs when he heard the words 'Jedi' and 'Master' put together in one sentence. His foot stopped mid-air.

"My mother hates Jedi." He commented with newfound intrigue.

He turned to his droid.

"Where would this Jedi be?"

"In the common room, Lord Ulgo."

"Just dandy."

Martyn quickly altered his course and set off to meet with the unexpected guest. Once he reached the common room he found Master Regon El-Tar, no less, standing in the middle of it, patiently waiting to be received. Martyn cleared his throat and the Jedi turned.

"You must be Hark." Regon made a polite conjecture.

Martyn responded with a lazy smile.

"That would be my brother."

"Oh. I beg your forgiveness then... Martyn, is it?"

Martyn ventured into the room, pacing about stealthily.

"Bingo." He sounds satisfied to be properly identified "Regon, is it?" He inquired with feigned innocence, refusing to be the only one stripped off his title "Fancy to meet a Jedi, here... Never had one of those before in our Estate... Not for lack of trying, though." He reflected.

El-Tar observed him silently. Martyn extended a hand invitingly.

"Please, do take a sit." He said as he found a chair for himself.

The Jedi Master followed his example.

"Still, if you would allow me to be frank, I must insist that you tell me the reason for your unexpected visit." He said nonchalantly "You're not here on official business, are you?" He asked, like most noble borns, with the distinct talent for making any polite statement sound like mockery.

"I was actually hoping to find your mother." Regon replied unaffected.

Martyn scoffed skeptically.

"I much doubt she would ever hope to find _you_." He commented.

Regon raised his eyebrows, only slightly taken aback. Martyn laughed out loud.

"Oh, forgive me, Master Jedi." He was quick to apologize "I don't mean to say I find your company displeasing; simply that I cannot, for the life of me, imagine a galaxy in which my mother would want to have anything to do with a Jedi."

El-Tar smiled ever so tranquil.

"We tend to be a rather persuasive kind."

"Oh, and I assure you I feel quite persuaded already." He smiled, standing up "But I think it would save you some time to know your Jedi charms would be quite wasted on my mother. She's too old to be persuaded. Surely you understand."

"Ah." He nodded compliant "Then perhaps it is best I go, after all." He stood and bowed, ready to leave.

"She might not be willing to help _you_." Martyn stopped him "But I don't see how she wouldn't be open to help her own son."

Regon took one good look at him and smiled intrigued.

"You don't even know what it is I came to ask." He commented.

"True. But I do have a few ideas as to what it is that _I_ want."

"And what would that be?"

Martyn smiled arrogantly. He gestured once more for El-Tar to return to the room and make himself comfortable, and El-Tar agreed to this invitation with ambiguous reluctance.

"Your Council's grasp on their share of power must be weak indeed if they sent you here to negotiate." Martyn spoke as he filled a glass of wine for himself. He was glad to find there was no one at home to remind him it was too early to indulge oneself so shamelessly.

"Nobody sent me." Regon objected.

Martyn seemed impressed to hear this. He chuckled.

"Then I assume things are worse than I could have anticipated." He was astonished "Jedi acting behind the backs of Jedi... My, my..." He mocked on.

"It is _for_ the Jedi that I do this, my Lord." Regon argumented.

" _Please_ , you don't need to school a high born on how power grabbing works." He sat down, enjoying a sip of his wine "We've practically coined the concept."

He took a few sips from his drink in silence, not once taking his eyes off the Jedi Master. He put his cup aside and leaned comfortably forward in his seat.

"As it turns out, it seems that power is not only shifting inside your little Council, Master Jedi, but also between the noble houses. This particular change of tides is making many uncertain." He said while distractedly playing with his rings "Not my mother, however." He told him "Ever since house Organa has had 40% of their mines in the Outer Rim seized by Mandalorian raiders, she's been living as though this family's fears are long since past... And while I agree that seeing her purchase Lord Organa's actions on Czerka Corporation was as wildly satisfying to me as it must have been humilliating to them, I'm afraid her old eyes are keeping her from seeing the long-term consequences of her political idleness."

Martyn noticed Regon's eyes slowly change with every word that he uttered. Where once before they'd seen nothing but a lowly bachelor playing political dilettante, now they could no longer ignore the obvious, dangerous strategist that was being revealed. Regon wondered how long he must have been hiding behind his boyish looks, his fine clothes and his careless behaviour. He wondered if it would be too late by the time anyone realized that Martyn Ulgo had little to no intention at all of allowing anybody else to run his family. Youngest one or not.

How terrible, Regon understood rather quickly. Martyn reacted to the Jedi's quiet epiphany with a pleased, devious smile.

"I know what you want, Master Jedi," He said after the silence had prolonged enough "because we want the exact same thing: we want to guide our families through this invisible chaos that oscillates about us and ensure that they survive, because, whether they see it or not, nobody else is qualified to do so more than us."

Martyn had hoped for an interrumption or a reaction of some sort, but the Jedi showed no such impatience. It was ever so rare when Jedi weren't complete hypocrites.

"Surely you must have your own way of coming about it, which I presume is what you came to ' _discuss_ ' with my mother..." He smiled entertained "Offer her some grand reward in exchange for something seemingly harmless and then, alas, was she wrong." He leaned back "And so I must insist in making a counter offer."

"Which is?" Regon finally inquired.

"It's quite simple: you scratch my back, I scratch yours. Protect my legacy, Master El-Tar, and it will be at your disposal. I control senators, weapons, Czerka, and intelligence well beyond your grasp," He started "even for a respected Jedi Master."

"You mean your mother does." He reminded him.

"Well, he who holds the key has passage to the room, does he not?"

"Despite the key holder's reputation?"

Martyn's lips curved into a smile, not feeling insulted in the slightest.

"Reputation is but a mask, Master El-Tar. I figured Jedi would know that better than anybody else." He leaned back on his chair and rested his hands on his lap, fingers intertwined "So, Master Jedi. I ask that you speak as freely as you find it possible and tell me _exactly_ how it is I may help you today."

Regon's pale blue eyes studied Martyn's. They were cold, like the soft kisses of snowflakes in the winter. Martyn grimaced, trying not to betray the fact that these had been all of his cards, and that if El-Tar should refuse him, then that would be the end of his little game.

"I'm looking for a woman named Kreia." The Jedi agreed to his partnership.

Martyn's expression gave away that he'd gone from controlling the course of the conversation into being completely unsure of what was going on.

"I've never heard that name before in my life." He confessed.

"Nor has anybody else... Other than a select few, which I believe may include your mother." Regon replied, seemingly not surprised that this was the case.

"And on what would you base this theory of yours?"

"I've been spending some time in the Jedi Archives." He replied "I've been conducting a quite extensive research of my own that lead me to something of a boring read."

"Pray, what ' _read_ '?" Martyn insisted.

"Birth records." He spoke again "You see, twelve years ago, a woman signed under that name gave birth to a half-human child in one of Coruscant's hospitals."

"I'm hardly surprised, Master Jedi. Lots of women gave birth twelve years ago." He rested his chin on his fist, growing bored "Reckless, I know. That mindless insistence on perpetuating overpopulation..."

"While there is little information concerning this woman on the hospital records, there is plenty one can find about the person under whose care she was released." Regon went on in spite of him.

"Who was this person?" Martyn tapped his fingers.

"Your mother." Regon smiled.

The tapping of Martyn's fingers stopped abruptly.

He laughed.

"Oh, you're _good_." He pointed at the Jedi "And I was right. My mother would _not_ like you." He stood from his chair and started pacing about the room, his glass of wine back on his hand.

Regon watched silently.

" _Force knows_ what sort of corrupted little schemes you might be up to, Master Jedi." He said facing both the window and his options "But fine, if you want her, you can have her." He turned to look at him, dead in the eye. "Now it's time to talk about what _I_ want."

Regon held his gaze and decided that it was too late not to trust him. If he could not trust Martyn Ulgo, then at least he could trust his ambition.


End file.
